Inheritance
by Chaco
Summary: No one ever wants an unexpected responsibility placed upon them even if it seems like a blessing. Hermione Granger is no different and now she'll have to balance living between two worlds. At least the Brightest Witch of her Age is up for a challenge.
1. Chapter 1

This story has no direction, is unedited, and stands to be more of a way to get my creative juices flowing. Thank you. - C

* * *

The groundskeepers hurried to collect their tools as rain pelted on them, soaking their uniforms until they clung to the skin. The head groundskeeper was shouting something, the lines in his face creased as he ordered the others about. In the rush to get inside, they didn't see the teenage girl looking out the window, her face blurred by the ancient glass.

The girl frowned, turning away to focus her attention to matters at hand in the room. Her father held a white knuckle grip on the wooden armrests of the chair he occupied, his wife kept her gaze forward while a calming hand was rested against her husbands arm.

"There is no other recourse?" Richard Granger snarled, "my brother was that vindictive that he sought to pull me from my anonymity?!"

"Dear, please be reasonable. Bartholomew was only doing what he thought necessary for the family." Jeanette Granger said quietly as she squeezed her husband's arm.

The solicitor eyed the couple as Hermione sat down in a leather wingback chair closest to the fire, listening intently to the discourse her parents were having with her late uncle's solicitor. If the conversation was going where she thought it was, she would be in a much larger pickle than she had started the summer with. She would never be able to explain this to Harry without him laughing hysterically at her; if he laughed at all. Ronald's reaction was something she didn't even want to consider. Either way, there would be drama.

"Your Grace, your brother considered every possible outcome. In the end, he did not want to donate the title and all its holdings to the British government. He thought that the Duke of Cheshire should be passed to you and as such, to your daughter." The weedy man shuffled the papers around on the desk before pulling out a large file labeled 'financials' and handing it to Richard Granger. "As you can see, you have inherited a vast sum of money along with Checkham House."

Jeanette Granger looked over at the paperwork as her husband's face turned a shade of green that couldn't possibly be healthy. The woman squeaked, bringing her hand to her lips and Hermione stood to see what the exact numbers were that led them to have such a reaction.

"Eight hundred million pounds!" Squeaked Jeanette Granger as she grasped her daughters hand, bringing her in closer. "Where did he get such a sum?!"

"His Grace had his hands in many pies, all reputable, of course," sniffed the solicitor. Hermione felt her head spin as she looked at the numbers in front of her. All of this was happening too quickly and she barely had time to keep up.

Her uncle, formally known as His Grace, Lord Bartholomew John Granger Checkam the Third, Duke of Cheshire, was somewhat estranged from her father. Of course when Hermione was a child there were small family gatherings where the brothers would attempt to reconcile their vast differences but Hermione hadn't seen her uncle since before starting at Hogwarts. He had never been a particularly nice man, insisting on sending Hermione to finishing lessons at the age of nine and then declaring her an oddity at the age of ten, just before her eleventh birthday. That was the breaking point between the two brothers.

Now her uncle was dead and the weight of his world was crashing down on her father's shoulders.

"He also explicitly wrote that you must hold the seat in the House of Lords." The solicitor said, shuffling more papers in his briefcase. Richard Granger audibly groaned, tossing the file onto the mahogany desk in front of him before putting his head in his hands.

"Richard, it will be alright, we'll make do as we've always done." Jeanette Granger whispered to her husband before looking up at her daughter, "Isn't that right, Hermione?"

Hermione smiled weakly and kissed her father on the head, "Dad, we can do this."

Richard Granger looked at his daughter, his brow creased, "we'll need to decide what to do about your schooling, Hermione. That's one of my greatest concerns."

The thought hadn't even entered her mind and while she did her best to stay calm she couldn't help the sharp gasp that left her, making the solicitor peer at her over his briefcase.

"Perhaps there's a way to keep the press to a dull roar?" her mother offered, squeezing her hand. Hermione nodded, trying to figure out how she was going to get past the paparazzi to get onto the train to go to Hogwarts. She would have to floo there, surely. She would also have to see if Dumbledore could somehow help because the Ministry surely had their own issues to contend with.

Merlin how she was going to figure this out was beyond her. A knock on the door startled the Grangers and the family solicitor from the quiet of the room. Richard Granger sighed, "come in."

A small woman dressed in a maids uniform opened the door and stood there, her eyes flicking at the family nervously. " Begging your pardon, your Grace," the woman said, "the funeral guests have begun to arrive."

Richard Granger nodded, then stood, wiping a hand over his jaw as he looked at the paperwork scattered about the desk. "We'll talk later, Johnston. I need a moment with my family."

The solicitor stood and gave a quick nod, "at your earliest convenience, Sir." then left with the maid.

"Dad," Hermione asked with a wobbly voice, "what do we do? I'm not leaving Hogwarts. Harry and Ron need me and I need them." _Especially now._

Richard Granger sighed, "I will find a way. I didn't want this life… for any of us." He looked to Jeanette Granger, "you'll make a very pretty duchess, Jeanette." He soundly kissed his wife before turning to Hermione. "And you'll be the brightest, most beautiful marchioness the world has ever seen."

"Aww, Dad." Hermione said, stifling the tears that threatened to flow. The whole situation might have given anyone else a sense of excitement. A noble title and wealth to boot but the Grangers were different. For them, this was like being assigned a desk job in a cubicle for the rest of their lives; no flexibility, no privacy and certainly plenty of scrutiny. Hermione was used to being under the watchful eye of the masses though, but not to the extent that she might appear in the society pages of the Guardian or People Magazine.

Her father enveloped her in a hug, pulling Jeanette Granger along with them. "We'll meet this with grace and dignity," he whispered, "after all, we're Grangers… well… Granger Checkhams."

Hermione couldn't hold back her crying as the worries in her head spilled over into fat drops of saltwater.

"Shhh… it's alright, Hermione." Jeanette whispered, kissing her daughter on the head. "Chin up, wouldn't want your uncle's stuffy friends seeing you actually care. It might give them an aneurysm" Her mother produced a handkerchief and dabbed at her daughter's eyes.

Hermione held back a watery laugh and took a deep breath. "No Mum. That would be mean."

* * *

Checkham house was old, starting as a fortress built in the late thirteenth century before that crumbled to the ground in a fire. Various buildings popped up on the property since then, the last being a large English Baroque style palace. Hermione loved the architecture and the old paintings that adorned the walls but the building itself was drafty and creaked during the winter. She once saw a white mist move down the hall in front of her when she came to visit as a small child and that event resulted in far too many nightmares for the better part of a year. It was too large for her family and too imposing to feel welcoming but now it was to be called home. Hermione shivered, wrapping her black wool clad arms around herself as they moved down the corridor.

"We'll never be able to find Crookshanks in this place, Mum." Hermione said softly as their heels clicked on the floor.

Jeanette turned to her daughter and smiled sadly, "he'll love the adventure of it."

They came to a stop, listening to the low murmur of the guests that arrived for the funeral. Hermione didn't really want to pay her respects to her uncle's corpse but found herself at the side of his coffin anyways. She took the moment to go over in her head all the horrible things that her uncle had done over the years before she looked at him.

The man was balding, completely grey around what hair was left at his temples and even had a scowl in death. Hermione sniffed. The undertaker must have not cared too much about this particular client if he couldn't bother to put the face into a more neutral, sleeping position. Pity rose in her chest. The man had been a loner, associating with stuffy men, never letting himself fall in love and certainly never letting himself be happy.

"Goodbye," she whispered, keeping her chin up and walking to greet the sea of black that represented the guests.

Her father proved to be quite the diplomat that afternoon, listening to droning lords and politicians as if he'd been the one to be trained to be the next Duke of Cheshire. Hermione admired his stoic behavior and sought to emulate him when she was pulled into conversation by her mother who had been cornered by ladies of society.

"It must be such a relief for you, to know that the title will remain within the Checkham family, your Grace." One woman simpered, her voice just above a whisper.

"Yes, I am quite sure that my husband is pleased. Family is important after all." Jeanette Granger agreed quietly.

"Whatever will you do with the dental practice?" Another woman asked.

Jeanette paused, "I imagine that I will either go back to working there or we will sell it."

"Mum— mother, you love the practice. I don't imagine that selling it would be helpful to you." Hermione exclaimed.

Jeanette Granger took Hermione's hand. "I know. But we must all make sacrifices for our family, Hermione."

The women surrounding them tittered their agreements and Hermione began to feel a headache coming on.

Hours later, after everyone had gone home and the Grangers were left to their own devices, Hermione found herself in her pyjamas in the library sprawled on the couch in front of the fire with a book on the Checkham House history. She was just getting to the grisly details of the battle of Nantwich when a woman who was not a maid swooped into the room.

"Your father said you would be in here." The woman clipped out, reminding Hermione of a Prada wearing version of Professor McGonagall. She knew this woman of course. Anyone who had ever spent a moment in Checkham House knew of the uptight housekeeper Lady Graham. A woman, Lady Graham kept Checkham House on a clockwork schedule, managing affairs and arranging the minute details that kept the Checkham family on the up and up.

"Hello, Lady Graham." Hermione said, sitting up, "why were you looking for me?"

Lady Graham looked down her nose at Hermione, "in the morning we will be refreshing your finishing lessons, followed by a shopping trip to outfit your wardrobe and do something about your hair."

"My hair is fine!" Hermione bristled, causing Lady Graham to tut and pick up an offending curl.

"By the time the dresser is done, you'll look and feel much better. Trust me. Get some rest, Lady Hermione. Tomorrow will be a busy day." Lady Graham left as quickly as she came, and Hermione tossed her book onto the settee, completely put off by idea that she would be doing something so frivolous.

This was going to be a long two weeks until she could get back to Hogwarts.


	2. Inheritance Ch 2

Ok, I'll try a bit harder to make this story readable, but no guarantees. I know nothing of British Peerage and the way it works, nor do I fully understand the British government. I apologize to all the Brits out there that may take offense. Also, I don't own Harry Potter. Thank you -C

* * *

Richard Granger, known to the greater public as His Grace, Lord Richard Edmund Granger Checkham, the Duke of Cheshire blinked at his wife as she sipped her tea from the delicate cup, doing her best to not let the hot liquid spill. He felt for her, she wasn't born into the life of a noblewoman and certainly hadn't planned on marrying a nobleman. Of course when they met at graduate school all plans flew out the window. Love had a funny way of doing that.

His brother had been less than understanding of the match; removing Richard's title and calling him a disgrace to the family. Richard sighed as he unfolded the post in front of him and lifted his coffee to his lips. A small but sharp knock on the door had the same maid from last night entering the breakfast room.

"A Mr. Albus Dumbledore and Ms. Minerva McGonagall to see you, your Grace," the maid said as she stepped to the side. Richard couldn't quite remember the girls name but it didn't matter at the moment. He'd been expecting that his daughter's professors would show up at some point. He planned to have a few words with them regarding Hermione's appearance when she came home at the beginning of summer. They both walked into the brightly lit room, smartly dressed as muggles and not a hint of magic about their appearances. Richard stood to shake the professor's hands, offering them a place to sit.

"It's lovely to see you again, Professor McGonagall," Jeanette smiled, "tea? Coffee? The kitchen has made some wonderful scones."

"Tea would be lovely, but I couldn't possibly be a burden for a scone," Professor McGonagall replied with a smile.

"It wouldn't be a burden at all. We have more than enough to share." Jeanette smiled, pouring tea for the witch before offering some to Professor Dumbledore. Jeanette looked up at the maid, "that will be all Maddie."

The maid shut the door to the room quietly.

"Ah, finally," murmured Professor Dumbledore as he pulled his wand out from his sleeve and cast a muffliato charm on the room. "I congratulate you on your recent developments, Mr. Granger. Or rather, your Grace." The old man's eyes twinkled.

Richard held back a snort, "I'm not sure if these developments are necessarily a good thing, Headmaster." He shared a look with Jeanette, "I am very concerned about how we'll balance Hermione's nature with this whole –" he gestured around the grand room, "thing."

"Well, that is what we have come here to discuss," said Professor McGonagall primly. "Our world is at odds with itself right now. It's a dangerous time to be a muggleborn."

"If you're referring to Voldewarts or whatever his name is, I highly agree," Richard replied.

The twinkle in Professor Dumbledore's eyes faded slightly and frown lines appeared on his face. "I cannot begin to fathom what Hermione has told you of Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, as I know him. People are disappearing every day and we haven't yet found a solution to destroy him. We fear for Hermione's safety but as long as she remains within the wizarding world then we can keep an eye on her."

Richard looked like he was about to severely disagree but Jeanette opened her mouth first. "What about some kind of protection? Wards or bodyguards?"

"We've considered that," Professor Dumbledore said, "and have come to the conclusion that Checkham House and all the holdings of the family will be warded against those that would seek harm and you three will be provided bodyguards with muggle and magical abilities. If you agree, that is."

Richard's face was in the process of turning a lovely shade of red as he comprehended the entire ordeal. "I just want my daughter safe. She'll be seventeen in a month and I know that she can make her own decisions." He gripped the the edge of the table, "But I will rain hellfire down on the world if she is ever hurt. She pretends that all is well and doesn't tell us what happens each year at that school but I've seen the scar on her torso. It reeks of lack of supervision!"

"Richard!" Jeanette exclaimed, "calm down. Let the headmaster explain himself."

It took a quiet moment for the new Duke to release the table and relax back into his chair. He stared at Dumbledore, one brow raised and his gaze icy. The headmaster stroked his beard and nodded. "I understand, Mr. Granger, how you feel. Hermione and her friends have proven to be very valuable in fighting against the dark forces. She has proven time and again a confident and capable witch. One who it would be best not to cross."

"Our world is very different from yours," Professor McGonagall chimed in, "our culture is different, our teaching methods are different. I apologize for any danger Hermione has been put in but she chose her friends and has acted with honor in regards to them."

Richard kept silent, making his wife cough and take over the conversation, "I know that Hermione needs this education in order to control and expand her magical abilities. I know that there is a career for her within your world but as it stands now, she must also function in the public eye in this one. None of us may be related to Her Majesty but the Checkham family does have a duty to uphold to the people of this country. Richard's brother was responsible for charities, governmental duties, and education of the history of the area to the populace. Hermione must maintain a face. She cannot disappear into your world and if something bad were to happen to her, well… I share the same sentiment as my husband."

Professor Dumbledore leveled a look on the Duke and Duchess, "would you expose our world?"

"I haven't thought that far yet," Richard replied before looking at his wife, "and who are you and what have you done to the Jeanette I know?"

Jeanette smiled, "I'm rising to the occassion. It's not like we had much of a choice." She took a sip of her tea and the air in the room instantly relaxed.

"Professor Dumbledore, the Auror Department and I have picked three candidates for your guard until the time comes fit that you will not need to rely on our protection." Professor McGonagall swished her wand and three scrolls of parchment appeared in front of them.

"The first two," she indicated them with her wand and they unrolled with a quick 'thwip' sound, "are muggleborns, like Hermione. They've been Aurors for the past ten years and their credentials check out after an exhaustive search. They also work within the muggle government whenever the Prime Minister is meeting with the Minister for Magic. The third has the same credentials as the others except he is a half blood and has also been trained as a Special Boat Services and Special Air Services as well as the wizarding equivalent, 'Aresmen.' He will be Hermione's guard."

The scroll unrolled and the man in question peered up at the at the Grangers. He couldn't have been more than thirty but the hardened look on his face spoke of someone who had seen atrocity in his life. He barely moved within the photograph and Richard's internal organs twisted as he gazed upon the soldier. He was clearly a killer.

"What's his name?" Jeanette asked, looking at the Professors.

Professor Dumbledore looked at Professor McGonagall and cleared his throat, "Alexander Nott."

* * *

"Put these on, at the very least you can wear them out," Lady Graham snipped at Hermione as she took the placed the overly expensive jeans into the Marchioness' hands. Hermione sighed and did her best to not roll her eyes because if she did that again, she would be forced to undergo another morning of tutelage from Debrett's finest. It had been hell, pure hell. Of course she remembered her lessons, how to address each individual and certainly how to pour tea, maintain polite conversation, remember which fork was which and how to curtsey to the Queen. After all, she was Hermione Granger; but remembering something and putting it to practice after it had lain dormant for six years was quite the feat especially since she was bone tired by the time she and Lady Graham had arrived in London that rest of the day had been spent shopping in Selfridge's and if Hermione saw another ' _classically understated_ ' pair of Louboutin shoes her head was going to pop off. Lady Graham had become something of a personal shopper, picking out demure pieces to pair with Hermione's petite form, all the while saying "wealth whispers, Lady Hermione," and "Don't wear anything too loud."

Hermione would give anything to have flaunted a Weasley jumper in her face.

After the shopping was completed, Hermione was whisked away in a town car to an upscale salon and boutique where she and Lady Graham were met by a very fashionable and flamboyant man dressed in shades of blue that would have made Dumbledore envious.

"My name is Eric, and I am so happy to serve you, Lady Hermione." Eric, an American, preferred all things loud, and much to Lady Graham's annoyance, became Hermione's new favourite person.

"Oh my God!" He exclaimed before sucking in air and bringing his fingertips to his lips in excitement, "is that the latest Gucci jeans?! Shut up, they look fantastic on you!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as Eric did a happy dance on the marble floor of the salon before he whisked her away to his chair.

"Do you need anything to drink? Water? I've got sparkling and flat. Or champagne?" He offered with a wiggle of his perfectly waxed brow, "although I doubt your guardian here would really appreciate that. Me getting you intoxicated during your hair appointment."

Hermione couldn't stop smiling, "no… water maybe. Thank you." Eric spun off to the refreshment bar, dancing to his own beat as he retrieved her water. Lady Graham watched him, a frown on her face before leaning down to speak to Hermione.

"He is the highest recommend stylist in London," she whispered, almost an apology for putting Hermione through this.

"I'm not worried," replied Hermione, "I like him. Almost as much as I like my hair." Lady Graham sniffed and moved off, clearly not in the mood to get into another argument about the state of Hermione's frizzy mane.

"Now, my Lady," Eric exclaimed as he came back in the room with a fancy glass of sparkling water and a slice of lime perched on the rim, "I do believe I know exactly what we shall be doing for you. First off," he handed Hermione the glass and began to fiddle with her hair, "how often are you washing your hair?"

Hermione looked confused for a moment, "Erm… every day? Like I'm supposed to?"

Eric gasped, "For shame Lady Hermione! You have curly hair! The best thing would be to not wash it at all." He began shuffling with the bottles at his stand. "You're drying it out by shampooing it and certainly not letting the conditioner repair the strands. Basically your hair is traveling through the Sahara Desert and you're throwing salt on it."

Hermione blinked, "I'm not quite sure I understand." Eric went onto explain, as he clipped ends off her hair, that the moisture from the naturally occurring oils needed to coat the entire follicle from root to tip in order to get rid of the frizz. Hermione, though irritated at the entire day, did feel immensely grateful for the man's advice.

Hours later, Hermione stood at the entrance of the salon looking exhausted, but very pretty. Eric had been a big help but the amount of work that went into making one person look completely polished was exhausting. "Please say we are going home, Lady Graham."

The woman pulled out her schedule and looked it over, "Yes. We'll take the town car and be home before supper."

"Thank Merlin," Hermione muttered, pulling at her glossy curls as the town car drove up and they got inside.

"Leave the curls alone, Lady Hermione. You'll ruin all of Eric's hard work," Lady Graham admonished, pulling Hermione's hand away from her head. Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, hoping to sleep off the so-called pampering.

Four hours later, Hermione was staring up the drive of Checkham House. The stone pillars and ornate carvings glowed against the last rays of the sun, illuminating the home in a golden orange color. Hermione blinked as they passed the gate, the guard at the front giving a mock salute. Her uncle had never had a guard before, Hermione turned and watched the gate close behind them though the guard wasn't to be found.

"Lady Graham," Hermione began as she felt for her wand in her sleeve, "Did Uncle Bartholomew ever employ guardsmen?" The gate disappeared behind a row of trees and Hermione slipped the wood from her sleeve into her fingers before deftly stowing it in her purse where she kept her hand.

"No," Lady Graham responded, completely unaware of Hermione's growing unease, "though your father decided that due to the rather large sum of inheritance, he would have the house more closely monitored for the time being."

"Ah, I understand." Hermione said as they passed beneath the archway and into the courtyard. Her parents were waiting at the large wooden doors, their new butler in attendance and a trio of men that appeared to be security detail. Hermione groaned "did he mention anything about bodyguards?"

Lady Graham shook her head and when the car pulled up to a stop, waited for the butler to open the door before sweeping out, leaving Hermione to clamber out of the car and onto the gravel.

"Hermione, you look lovely and your hair looks stunning!" Jeanette exclaimed, coming forward to embrace her daughter and whispering in her ear, "how was it? Need some chocolate or tea? They didn't turn you into a poodle, thank God."

Hermione let a fatigued laugh escape her lips, "If anything I need a good night's sleep. We don't have any plans tomorrow, do we?"

Jeanette shook her head and wrapped an arm around Hermione, leading her up the stairs. "No, we have one garden party to attend to before you head off to school. It's for the Association of Dentists. I guess members of the royal family will be in attendance. But that's neither here nor there. I'd like you to meet some people, though. It's very important."

Richard stood conversing with the three men, his eyes hard as he stared at them before looking down at his daughter. "Hermione," he said as his glare softened, "these gentlemen are going to be our personal bodyguards until further notice. This is Alan Davenshaw," the salt and pepper haired man stepped forward and nodded to Hermione with a serious expression on his face. He didn't look particularly friendly. "This is Ian Wyndham." The towering blonde acknowledged Hermione with a grunt. "And last but not least, your security detail." The dark haired man stepped forward and was shaking Hermione's hand before her father could finish the introduction.

"Hello Lady Hermione, I'm Alexander Nott." He attempted a smile and Hermione turned white as her stomach slammed up into her ribcage and back down into her body.

"Nott? Nott, you say?" It took her a moment to get her bearings before she plunged her hand into her purse, pulling out her wand only to have it knocked away with a quick expelliarmus cast by none other than Ian. Hermione looked at the group in confusion "what… Mum, Dad?!"

Alan moved quickly, casting memory charms on the muggles surrounding them, save for the Duke and Duchess. Alexander warily inched foward, his wand held up in the air away from Hermione. "Lady Hermione, I'm one of the good guys. Professor Dumbledore specifically appointed me to protect you. I'm not going to hurt you."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, "How?! When? How do I know that I can even trust you? I haven't seen Dumbledore since the end of the school year!" She backed away from the group as the butler and lady graham, their memories modified, left the drive and went inside, carrying the day's purchases.

"He was here today, darling. He explained everything," Jeanette said, placing a comforting kiss on her daughter's temple, "he said to give you this." She handed Hermione a parchment envelope, complete with the Hogwarts seal. Hermione spent a good minute staring at the yellowed paper before deciding that it probably wasn't cursed and opening it.

 _Miss Granger,_

 _I do apologize for the unexpected guests. I promise that they are highly recommended and have gone about ensuring your family's protection, muggle or otherwise. I look forward to seeing you and Mr. Nott on September 1st. Enjoy your garden party._

 _Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak._

 _Albus Dumbledore_

Hermione folded up the letter, knowing that Dumbledore had sent it based off the nonsensical closing that brought thoughts of the sorting during her first year.

"Well," Richard said as he began to lead his girls inside, "now that we've settled that matter, let's eat. I'm bloody well starving."


End file.
